Fresh Eyes, Old Fears
by nifftee
Summary: My first attempt at HP fanfic. Set (I think!) during OotP. A little bit RL/SS slashy but mainly just attraction. SB is OOC, i.e. not as flipping miserable as he is in the books. Also got an OC, SS's niece!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The stolen broom was in poor shape and veered to the left. Its rider would have sighed in frustration had she been able to spare the breath, her lungs the only part of her body which seemed to work, everything else was frozen with cold. Now that she had left the Breton coast she found it difficult to distinguish the starless sky from the sea below. Without the crashing of waves the English Channel reminded her of a glutinous potion, Wolfsbane perhaps, and once or twice she'd failed to notice her proximity to the sea until, startled by the spray on her face, she pulled the argumentative, obstreperous broom upward. She was without luggage and over her uncomfortable Muggle clothing - skinny jeans were in hindsight a poor choice - she wore a cloak badly in need of repair. In her left hand she gripped her wand tightly. Her heart raced as she imagined being parted from it and she shut her eyes against the desperate fear of its loss. After what seemed like hours she saw a large freighter and beyond it Southampton. The traveller had never much liked commercial docks, preferring the history and pomp of the Royal Navy at Portsmouth to Southampton's mercantile hub, but her spirits lifted as she climbed higher to speed over the town. Although the sight of England, in all its urban sprawl and light pollution, filled her with a rejuvenated zeal for home she also felt a prickly terror at a land made so unfamiliar, a place with more foes than friends.

The attack, when it came, was unsurprising. With less than a mile to 12 Grimmauld Place the tangle of twigs which made up the back of her broom caught alight. A childish prank, the sudden heat made her numb and 'Aguamente' was whispered more in irritation than fear. She zigzagged and rolled the broom mid-air forcing the old stick into manoeuvres it resisted. Her evasions protected her from three curses, bright greens and silvers and she heard the whoops of joy from her pursuers. With a lurch of her guts she realised they were toying with her. Pounding in her head she heard advice given long ago: _Rage drives out fear._ As the thought came to her the roiling tongue of the Dark Mark appeared from above. White anger fuelled her as she nosedived the broom toward the orange streets below. Taken surprise by her pelt toward Muggle London her two pursuers hesitated and as she looped round she roared 'Petrificus Totalus' and one of the Death Eaters fell to the earth with a crunch. As the traveller careered away from the remaining foe Bellatrix Lestrange's voice echoed across the night sky: _You dare attack the Dark Lord's servant? I shall enjoy your death, mudblood_. The stolen broom, damaged by fire and rough use stuttered and shook. Bellatrix cackled gleefully. The traveller, worn to exhaustion from her journey and the ravages of her mission jumped from the broom and twisted to apparate. Before the world dissolved around her she heard 'Incendio Tergum!' and was thankful she had escaped in time.

The glass broke her landing. The dank alleyway from which she could see Grimmauld Place was home to shattered beer bottles which sliced the arm she had used to shield her head from the fall. The lacerations made her whimper and she attempted to breathe normally. Cuts on glass are unpleasant, but preferable to Bellatrix's homemade curse. Someone at the Order would soon patch her up, and then bed, and long deferred sleep. She just had to get across the square and all would be well. For the first time in months the young woman felt giddily happy, or as happy as one can feel when there is glass in one's arm. As she began to stand, using the slimy wall for support, she thought distractedly about that final curse. 'Tergeo' is to clean and 'Incendio' was the pyromaniac's favourite. To clean with fire? She had taken but one step when two things happened almost simultaneously. Firstly, a small but persistent itch around her navel began to intrude into her consciousness. Furthermore, she recalled that 'Tergum' was Latin for skin. Through the folds of her cloak and her pretty patterned jumper blood began to soak. The stomach-centred burn, which felt initially like a nasty case of eczema, was radiating outwards and as she lifted up her top she saw to her horror a growing bloodied hole where her skin used to be. She clutched her hand to her stomach, fearing wildly that her organs would fall onto the rubbish-strewn floor. She thought of 12 Grimmauld Place, her only chance of life, and staggered into apparition. Her skin had been burned to nothing between her rib cage and her hips and as she turned she felt blood pour out of her.

Sirius Black stalked around his bedroom, more furious than usual at his enforced captivity. The Order meeting that day had been worse than normal. Dumbledore made his customary pleasantries but there was a tension in his eyes that belied his mirth. Moody's magical eye swiveled constantly throughout Remus and Kingsley Shacklebolt's reports making Sirius feel sick. Molly Weasely had lingered in the sitting room while the meeting went on, and looked red-eyed as the Order members took their leave. As usual Sirius had requested, or rather demanded, that he be of some use but Dumbledore had waved his entreaty away as though it was poor form to want to work for the Order. To add to the indignity Snape had arrived for the meeting early, while Sirius was still clearing away the dinner things. The memory made him wince, how infuriating to be caught in the act of playing host by the man who would never let Sirius forget his peripheral role. Caught mid-stride it occurred to Sirius that Snape had made no such comment, not even addressing him. Well, that was intolerable. If Snape wasn't even going to acknowledge his existence then he would be made to remember whose house he was sullying with his greasy hair and oversized nose.

The portrait started shrieking from the hallway downstairs and with a groan Sirius held his head in his hands. "Sirius? Can you deal with that? I have to give Arthur his dinner." Molly had a way of asking questions that were thinly veiled demands and Sirius had begun to obey unthinkingly, perhaps an unlooked-for consequence of his hound-like nature. He descended the stairs, already bellowing at his mother when he saw a crumpled mess by the front door. It was difficult to tell what it was, except that it was bleeding heavily and apparently immune to the racket made by the portrait and the other defence mechanisms. Sirius leapt forward and roughly pulled the jumble of limbs away from the still open door. The noise from the door brought Molly into the hallway, hamper in hand, "Really Sirius, there's no need to slam - good grief!" Clearing the blood away from her face Sirius saw an unconscious young woman, pale with mahogany coloured hair, a heart-shaped face and a severe expression. Molly wailed at the sight as Sirius used his wand to lift the woman off the floor and carry her gently into the sitting room. A trail of blood followed her body and Sirius thought, fleetingly, that he could smell fire.

"Sirius - send a message to Albus and Severus, they must come at once. Tell them she is back and badly hurt. I will do what I can for her, but this is dark magic. Go Sirius!" Molly turned to the body on the couch and the figure she barely recognised and choked back tears. Gingerly she pulled up the woman's top to see where the fire had passed the layer of white subcutaneous fat. In the traveller's midriff there was the liver and other organs open to the air like on an autopsy table. Sirius looked green as he reentered the room. "What should we do?" he asked as he tried not to look at the woman's organs.

"We have to stop the fire but I've tried the usual things and none of them work. Lets use a freezing charm together. The combined power might stop the flames spreading and give the others time to find an antidote." Standing together Molly and Sirius shouted 'Immobulus', and the fire could spread no further.

Five minutes can feel like an eternity when one is staring at the body of a young woman near death. All of Sirius' frustration with Albus and hatred of Snape had vanished upon sight of the grisly wounds. He racked his brains trying to think of a curse that could do such damage. The only analogue he could find was 'Sectumsempra', Snape's little concoction. If he could devise such magic perhaps he could cure it too. Molly was sitting in a squat little armchair, staring intently at the woman's face as though wishing she would wake up. "Who is she?" "Isolde." The next question caught in his throat as Snape burst into the room, eyes wild and nostrils flaring. For a split second Sirius thought Snape was livid, the colour drained from his already sallow cheeks, his breathing laboured but Sirius corrected himself: Snape wasn't furious, he was terrified. The Potions Master didn't appear to see Black as he began a rapid discussion with Mrs Weasely. Sirius had barely begun to think how long it had been since he'd seen Snivellus scared when Snape turned on him. "What happened?" As Sirius described the heap in the hallway Snape's jaw tightened and Sirius found himself grateful for the calculating mind behind Snape's cold eyes. With a curt nod Snape turned back to the body and began using his wand as a diagnostic tool, as mediwizards did.

Her face looked relaxed in the light from the table lamp. What was odd was the stillness of expression. Isolde had a mobile face, a broad grin or sly smile transforming her somewhat severe features into a happy countenance. Even in sleep, ghosts of smiles or frowns would appear and disappear with surprising swiftness. Under the 'Immobulus' spell she was frozen, Snape was certain, almost on the boundary between life and death. She had lost a vast amount of blood and her organs were failing. Severus could think of several spells that might halt the fire, not least his own remedy for Sectumsempra, but he would need assistance to keep her alive while he tried to dispel the curse. Dumbledore arrived, bringing McGonagall with him, "I was with Albus when we got the message. Filius is in charge." Dumbledore surveyed the patient impassively as Snape recounted his conclusions while McGonagall gave a small shriek at the amount of blood - the sitting room resembled an abattoir - and laid an arm around Molly's shoulder. Sirius stood in the background, trying to follow Dumbledore and Snape's rapid discussion and wishing Remus was there rather than sleeping off another full moon in the reinforced cage upstairs. Dumbledore and Snape nodded grimly at one another and the headmaster addressed the group:

"Sirius, Minerva, Molly. Severus has examined Isolde and we have formulated a plan of action. The patient is close to death, it is thanks to Molly and Sirius' quick action that she is still with us. We have to do several things at the same time. Once Immobulus is lifted we have but seconds to stop the curse. This is powerful dark magic and we need the combined concentration of us all to save Isolde's life. On my mark, Sirius and Molly will lift the freezing charm. Then you will both recite 'Haemocorpus' to replenish blood loss. Minerva - we need you to monitor Isolde's heart and keep it pumping if it become arrhythmic. Severus and I will deal with the fire. All clear?" Dumbledore levitated the couch into the middle of the room and the five of them gathered around the makeshift bed, wands out. "Ready? Now!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The cold dawn air made Remus Lupin shiver and he turned over, intending to sleep awhile longer. Unfortunately, the bare wooden floor wouldn't let him return to slumber and with a heavy head and complaining body he opened his eyes and sat up. He was getting too old for this. The transforming was always going to put him out of joint but in the past few years he'd begun to suspect it wasn't that which left him with niggling aches and pains throughout the month so much as spending a few hours on the floor. Well, he was approaching forty, what could he expect? He clambered to his feet and reached through the bars for his wand.

The hot shower always helped rid him of the worst of the pain and this morning he lingered, stretching with his hands over his head, touching his toes, twisting his shoulders and even performing a few squat thrusts he'd once seen recommended in a Muggle magazine. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror he regarded himself through the evaporating mist. Tawny coloured eyes looked back at him. His hair, once strawberry blond, was now flecked with grey. He had been all too relieved to discover he could still grow a fine auburn beard, a necessity for his recent mission to the werewolves who shunned human society. He'd have to cut it off soon, Sirius said he looked like a pirate, but for now Remus liked the facial hair. He thought it lent him a rugged masculinity otherwise obscured by his average height and wiry frame. Back in Regulus' bedroom, now his, Remus put on some boxers and an old Sex Pistols tee shirt he couldn't bear to part with. From the back of the bedroom door he took his dressing gown, a warm tartan one he'd valued at Hogwarts, put on some slippers - borrowed from Sirius - and headed downstairs. His plan was toast, camomile tea and a return to bed. The house was quiet and Remus turned into the kitchen and switched on the wind up radio. He'd always liked listening to Muggle radio, perhaps because it reminded him of his parents and their love of wireless comedy. He liked to keep informed about the Muggle world despite Sirius' scorn, which Remus put it down to the casual bigotry at which his friend was so adept. Not that Sirius hated Muggles, or wished them harm. Rather it was just that he took no interest in their culture or way of life. After the first war, when the loss of his friends made him desperate, Remus had lived quietly as a Muggle and had developed a taste for, among other things, punk, romantic comedies and Tristram Shandy.

Tea and toast in hand Remus was lost in his own thoughts as he entered the sitting room. The acrid smell of smoke as he opened the door he initially put down to overdoing the toast but before he looked up the smell of blood, recently shed, made his heart palpitate. The couch was back where it had been the day before and the room was as clean and ordered as it always was when Molly had chivvied Sirius and Remus into housework. Ordered, except for that armchair that was pulled up close to the couch. In the chair slept Severus Snape, head fallen forward onto his chest. He held a hand limply in his own, the hand of a young woman Remus knew. Bruises had emerged over Isolde's face and one eye was swollen. In addition to blood Remus could also smell something medicinal. He was relieved to see that she was breathing deeply and slowly. "Severus?" The Potions Master jerked awake and looked blearily at Remus. The werewolf couldn't remember seeing Severus look so bad, not even after he returned from the Death Eaters, his body tingling with the aftereffects of Crucio. Now Snape had dark circles under his eyes, which were struggling to focus. A vein throbbed in his temple and a day's worth of black stubble covered his chin and neck. "What?" Snape's voice was hoarse but no less acerbic than usual.

"I've made some tea and toast. It looks like you need it more than I do."

"Perhaps if you had not waken me, wolf, I could survive without your clucking."

"Make your mind up Severus, am I a wolf or a chicken?" Snape only grunted and rolled his neck to rid him of his crick.

"Here, take the toast, you'll only get Molly bothering you if you resist my tender ministrations."

A harrumph was the only reply Lupin received but the food was taken and Snape began to eat. Remus stepped closer to the couch to move a stray hair off Isolde's face.

"How long has it been since you last saw her?"

"Four years."

"Will she recover?"

"I don't know. It may take some time." Snape put down the empty plate and reached for the tea. "Camomile? You are a cliche Lupin."

"I'll have it then." Remus took the mug out of Severus' hand and they brushed fingers for an instant. Snape's hand was cold and, now that Lupin noticed it, he was trembling slightly. Snape looked fixedly at Isolde, avoiding Lupin's eye.

"What happened?"

Severus related the previous night's events and tried to recover his poise. The idea that a shabby werewolf should look at him with such pity was intolerable. As he described the extent of Isolde's wounds he took pleasure in seeing Lupin pale and grow serious. The man's sunny disposition was altogether too much to bear, as it had been at Hogwarts two years earlier. That episode, Lupin's resignation, was never referred to by either of them, a fact for which Snape was grateful, for he was less sanguine about his behaviour than he would have appear. "What will you do now?" Lupin's question interrupted Severus' train of thought.

"Remain of course. It is the weekend, I will not be missed by the school and must be here when she wakes."

"I see. Severus, can I be honest with you?"

"Can I stop you?"

Lupin flashed one of his infuriating grins. "You look like hell. Seriously. I've been through a transformation and I am housewife's fancy Gilderoy Lockhart compared to you. Stay, by all means, but sort yourself out or you'll be no good to her when Isolde comes back." Severus felt bone weary. Two days earlier he'd been called to a sudden meeting of Death Eaters, where the Dark Lord had Crucio'd him, seemingly just for fun. All day Friday he'd been dealing with the aftereffects, agonisingly sensitive skin, a pounding heart and nerves on fire. He was sure that a normal witch or wizard would be recuperating in St Mungo's but exposure to torture and Severus' mettle permitted him to function almost normally less than twelve hours after the curse had been performed. The day before he'd also been in a state of considerable nervous excitement, anxious to hear when Isolde had returned and increasingly distressed as the hours ticked by. Not that anyone except Dumbledore would have noticed. A record number of detentions were handed out and Neville Longbottom had been tasked to pick rare herbs from the Forbidden Forest with two equally inept students for help.

"What do you suggest I do?"

"There's a shower upstairs. The hot water is plentiful. You can sleep in the room first door on the right. The bedding is Egyptian cotton. When you wake - whenever that may be - Molly will provide a veritable feast. While you do all these things I will watch Isolde. At the slightest change in her condition I will fetch you."

"You want me to sleep in your room?" Snape said with an arched eyebrow, which it took all his effort to raise.

"For fuck's sake Severus, I offer you a clean place to sleep that is all."

"And you will watch her?"

"Of course." Remus was amused to watch contrary impulses speed across Snape's face. His exhaustion was obvious as was his desire to freshen up. Remus was too well brought up to point out that Snape's robes were covered in dried blood. Yet against the advantages of his offer Remus could see Snape do battle with his desire to owe no-one, least of all him, any favours. Eventually, proximity to Isolde won out. "Very well."

Lupin had made slight effort to mark Regulus' bedroom as his own. Severus surmised that the werewolf had little in the way of possessions. Again, a niggle of conscience worried him as he remembered how he had contributed to Lupin's impoverishment. At least he was still making the Wolfsbane every month, he had hardly ruined the werewolf's life. As Severus divested himself of his bloodstained robes he thought back to the period, two years earlier and the nascent friendship that had its genesis in the monthly delivery of Wolfsbane. Curt nods and tart remarks had rapidly developed into an accord between the two teachers. Often Severus would stay for tea, or firewhisky in Lupin's rooms and once, they'd shared dinner. Isolde was writing less and less frequently and Severus had begun to feel a severe lack of affable company. Initially they had spoken about potions, the challenges of the Wolfsbane and broader developments in advanced potion theory. Severus remembered that Lupin had always possessed a keen mind. Once they had exhausted academic subjects they'd moved on to literature, Lupin lending Severus modern novels and the Potions Master urging the werewolf to read Shakespeare's sonnets and tragedies. They always avoided discussion of their schooldays, painful to them both, particularly the episode that had nearly killed one and imprisoned the other. The memory of that night from twenty years before made Severus shiver as he shed his undergarments and wrapped a fluffy towel around his waist. This tentative friendship had been destroyed by the return of Sirius Black and the deciding factor that had swung Snape in favour of remaining at Grimmauld Place was the thought of the outrage it would provide Black to know he'd a hated houseguest.

As the water caressed his tense shoulders and over-sensitised skin Severus examined the shower gels on offer. After using a two-in-one shampoo and conditioner which smelled of menthol and made his scalp tingle Severus had a choice between a navy blue offering, designed to appeal to athletic and muscly men, and a brightly coloured green bottle which claimed to be stuffed full of mint leaves. It was blindingly obvious whose was whose, only a man as adolescent as Black would want to be affirmed in his masculinity even by his shower gel. Snape snorted in derision as he reached for the mint. A quick flick of the wand shed him of his unsightly stubble and after concluding the rest of his ablutions Severus was forced to admit that he had indeed looked like death warmed up. Returning to Regulus' bedroom Severus saw that Lupin had been in to provide him with clean bedding and had left him a note. It read:

_Dear Severus, I hope you don't mind but I've taken the liberty of removing your clothes so they can be scourgified by the time you wake. I think the blood stains will come out; if I can't work it out Molly will take it as a challenge. I've asked Minerva to pack a few items for you in case you end up staying longer than expected. In the meantime I've left some clothes of mine you're welcome to wear until yours are returned to you. There's also a draught of Dreamless Sleep by the bed. Remus._

Against his better judgement Severus adjusted a tee shirt and pair of boxers for size - he was both taller and broader than Lupin - and pulled them on. The tee shirt was well worn and read 'Joy Division'. Snape neither knew, nor cared what it meant. Climbing under the soft covers he swigged the potion and was swiftly asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

At 9 o'clock Sirius Black learned he'd given houseroom to a man he loathed. At 10 o'clock Molly told Sirius to stop sulking and see to the Grindylows on the top floor. At lunchtime Remus Lupin devoured a ham and mustard baguette, a bowl of chicken soup, two packets of crisps, half a dozen chocolate biscuits and a pint of tea, his napping by Isolde's bedside having distracted him from his appetite. Molly looked alarmed, Remus shot her a lupine grin, he was always ravenous after a transformation. With Mrs Weasely installed in the sitting room to keep watch on the patient Remus decided to get some fresh air by tackling 12 Grimmauld Place's garden, which he was trying to bring under control. Before that though he decided to look in on Severus.

The sound from Sirius' bedroom across the hall indicated that the host was in a melancholic mood, and taking no trouble to keep his music quiet. Sighing in irritation Remus stepped into his bedroom. Snape lay still and motionless under the covers of the four poster. Remus was relieved to see that the potion had been drunk and amused that Snape had chosen the least colourful tee shirt to wear. When deeply asleep Snape's face relaxed and the ever-present scowl was replaced with an expression more serene. While Severus could never be described as handsome there was something arresting about his face. He had long black eyelashes and a nose that threatened to overpower his other features. His eyebrows were black too, and neat, ready to spike in an expression of scorn or, rarer, amusement. The lines etched onto his forehead were less deep now making him seem younger and more vulnerable. Remus had always had a sneaking admiration for Snape's high angular cheekbones; his own face was rounded and, Remus worried, would run to fat with too much more of Molly's cooking. Snape's chin jutted out and above it those lips, oddly sensual and tinged with red. While a teacher at Hogwarts Remus had amused himself to imagine Severus applying a pink fruity lip balm between classes. Snape's mouth was used to smirking but that rarer motion, a grin or full smile, transformed his face. Remus remembered being thrilled the only time he'd elicited a full throated bark of a laugh from the Potions Master. If only it hadn't been at his expense; the third firewhisky had dulled his senses after the Yuletide Ball and he hadn't noticed that his tatty dress robes were dangling in his fireplace. Even after Severus had put out the fire he had continued to laugh until tears were streaming out of his eyes. Remus smiled sadly as he looked at Snape's sleeping form; he couldn't imagine the taller man being so relaxed to laugh now. Whispering 'Muffliato' to keep out the worst of Sirius' music Remus headed downstairs and thought of his flower beds.

Sirius had been unimpressed to discover that Snape was using his house as his own, and less impressed still to find he wasn't permitted to be angry about it. After blasting a couple of Grindylows in disconsolate fashion he had started writing a letter to Harry but he was struggling to marshal his thoughts. Sirius was always anxious not to upset Harry by communicating his depressive mood; it was a marker of his melancholic state that he failed to see that even his most upbeat letters looked considerably sadder when read by the recipient. However, even he could see that having a Snape in the house was hardly conducive to domestic happiness. Scrunching up his fifth piece of parchment he gravitated toward his old record collection. Music was the only thing Sirius could appreciate about Muggle culture and at school in the late 70s and early 80s he'd delighted in styling himself a punk, though he understood none of the attendant political values and beliefs. Rather, it was an excellent way to upset his parents and Regulus. Looking out his bedroom window he saw Remus doing battle with some weeds at the far end of the garden. Typical. How could the man be so placidly accepting of this house? At least he was still sent on missions, was still of some use. From below he smelled chicken soup, dinner would raise his spirits.

The kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place was furnished with a heavy oak table. Severus sat in the corner, with a view of the garden, trying to restrain himself from drinking the soup straight out of the pot. He hadn't eaten properly for days. Being Crucio'd gave one an unpleasant awareness of the jagged progress of food through one's guts and he'd taken to relying on revivifying potions of his own concoction in preference to actual sustenance. The kitchen clock tolled 5 just as Sirius bounded into the room. "Where's Molly?" "Next door." The silence stretched out between them. Both were relieved when Remus entered through the back door. "I shan't be able to see for much longer. These winter transformations are hell, the moon is present for such a bloody long time. Severus - do you think the Wolfsbane could be adapted to take account for that?"

"It is... possible."

"Great. Sirius - have you eaten? Molly's made some soup, it's fantastic."

"No I... I thought I'd have some now."

"Jolly good. I might have some too. I've been hungry all day." Sirius and Remus availed themselves of soup and bread and sat at the table. Severus had already resumed eating and seemed as keen to get out of there as possible. Sirius took a mouthful of bread to soothe his grumbling stomach and asked "Has there been any change?"

"No." It was Remus who answered. "She seems to be in a very deep sleep, not potion-induced and we don't know when, or if," - Remus looked apologetically at Severus "it might end."

"Who is she?"

Severus looked straight at Sirius and answered, with a touch of defiance, "She is Isolde Snape." Sirius could hardly believe it, but he supposed it all made sense, Snape's look of terror as he arrived last night, his commitment to stay with her through the early hours, the throb in his temple as Remus admitted the possibility that she might not recover. But, she was attractive, far more so than Snape, how could she put up with him? And anyway, teachers at Hogwarts weren't allowed to marry, unless Dumbledore gave some kind of special dispensation and God knows he looks kindly enough upon Snivellus. This was too strange. Already in the short hours since Isolde had collapsed on his doorstep Sirius had felt an affinity for her, a desire to know her and all this time, he was daydreaming about Snape's _wife_? Sirius, who had been inhaling a mouthful of soup choked on Snape's words and had to be smacked on the back by Lupin until he'd stopped coughing.

"Isolde _Snape_?"

"What of it?"

"But when... how...?"

By this time Lupin had started to laugh which earned him glares from the other two. "Sirius, Severus isn't _married_ to Isolde. He's her uncle."

That evening Dumbledore returned to 12 Grimmauld Place and a rota was instituted. Given the fragility of Isolde's state it was decided that she would require twenty-four hour care. Every day Molly would sit with the patient from 8 - 2 pm at which point Sirius would take over from 2 - 8, handy for him as he tended to be a late riser. Remus volunteered to take charge from 8 - 2 in the morning - the full moon was far away - and Severus, who refused to be excluded from the arrangements would be in the armchair from 2 am until Molly relieved him the next morning. This way he could get back to Hogwarts for breakfast and no-one would suspect he'd been out of the castle. The main advantage of the plan was that Sirius and Severus were kept apart. These arrangements having been put in place life resembled something like normality at the Order's headquarters. Molly ran errands from the sitting room and ensured Isolde was clean and her obvious wounds were healing. Sirius tended to play the patient music and told her stories about his schooldays and Harry's adventures. He felt his spirits lift at the prospect that the young woman might hear him. Remus would work quietly on the research he'd picked up again with access to the impressive Black library. Occasionally he'd take Isolde's hand and ask her to return to them. Severus turned up tired from a day's teaching and an evening's labours. He would stroke Isolde's forehead, talk to her of their time together and, when he felt the house was quiet, he would sob silently before falling into sleep.

An unexpected consequence of the rota was the resumption of Snape and Lupin's tentative amity. It began on the fourth day. The previous nights Snape had asked for an update and then dismissed Lupin with a terse nod, a habit that was beginning to irritate the werewolf. This night though Snape made no such movement and instead slumped into the armchair. "Difficult day, Severus?"

"Difficult would not begin to describe it. More idiocy in the corridors, I have handed out detentions as frequently as you used to award points. The detentions held up my work this evening; Longbottom exploded a cauldron and I did not even get near preparing the Wolfsbane ingredients till gone eleven. Do not worry," Snape looked at Remus blankly "it shall be done in time."

"I have perfect faith in you Severus." A grunt was the only response to this. "I need to. Your potion is the only thing that keeps me from killing someone."

"And the steel bars."

"Well, yes, and the cage but nevertheless... You do like to make things difficult for yourself Severus. All those detentions, are they really necessary?"

"They are if you'd rather keep order than win a popularity contest."

"No fear there, only the Slytherins would vote for you. I don't think you'll be toppling Dumbledore from his perch anytime soon."

"And what did it give you, Lupin? The adoration of your students?"

Remus, who had stood to leave now took his seat again on a pouffe near the makeshift bed. "In truth, not so very much. It feels nice initially, to be popular, I suppose it always does. But none of the students knew me, knew what I was. I was just the teacher who gave them fun homework and free chocolate. And, when they knew what I was, they feared me."

Snape was chewing his lip and seemed to find it hard to look Remus in the eye. "What I did, Lupin, I regret it." The words seemed to have been wrung out the Potions Master and for a moment Lupin didn't know what to say. He'd never heard Snape apologise before.

"Thank you Severus. For what it's worth, I should have expected it to get out at some point. Bright students could work it out easily enough. After all, James and Sirius did all those years ago and you knew by the time... by the time it happened." Remus found it difficult to talk about Sirius' prank from twenty years before. Severus nodded sadly and neither could think of any more to say. Remus was almost out of the door when he was struck by a thought and turned "Severus? Call me Remus."

"As you wish."

Another week went by and the traveller's condition did not change. Hushed conversations in the kitchen began to map out the long-term strategy were Isolde to remain in her coma-like state. These conversations were kept from Snape who seemed convinced in his belief, contrary to all evidence, that she would soon wake. Visitors to headquarters who knew Isolde, Moody and Tonks in particular, would sit for a while when they could spare it, and remind the patient of her adventures as an Auror.

For an hour every night after Lupin's shift had ended he would sit up with Snape discussing the day's events in the castle. Getting a sense of life at Hogwarts proved enjoyable for Lupin and he discovered that Snape had a shrewd, one might say anthropological eye for student behaviour. One night Snape related a setback in his Advanced Potions class when Martha Trescothick (a Ravenclaw) and Athelred Kelhyne (a Slytherin) fell out over the best way to store Bubotuber puss, landing them both in detention. "Are you going to get them to work out their differences after class?"

"Of course not."

"But how will they work together?"

"Lu - _Remus_, they will be dating by the end of the week."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"By long experience. You would like evidence?"

"Convince me." Snape steepled his fingers in what Lupin had come to recognise as his teaching mode. "One: Kelhyne has been cruel about Trescothick's appearance twice in my hearing in the past week. He has been broadcasting his dislike of her. Two: Trescothick has been flirting with Edgar Mumptious, a Hufflepuff 7th year. It is the talk of the school."

"This is evidence of nothing. Kelhyne genuinely hates Trescothick, why else would he get so worked up about puss? And the girl fancies somebody else."

"You do not understand the contextual data. Three: Kelhyne's behaviour is consistent with his house. This is how Slytherins flirt, or did Slytherins never flirt with you?"

"Well it seems I wouldn't have known if they had!"

"Four: Edgar Mumptious is a Hufflepuff, even a 7th year is barely equal to Trescothick. She has scanned the school looking for someone to make Kelhyne jealous and she has picked the most asinine, gentlemanly, honourable bore she could find."

"Why can't they just confess their attraction to one another?"

Snape rolled his eyes and snorted in amusement, "Because, you berk, they are sixteen years old."

"Right, lets make this interesting. If Martha and Athelred have found true love - with each other mind! - within a week I will... I will take a shift from you. I give you the chance for a night in your own bed."

"And if I am wrong?"

"You... you will bite your tongue around Sirius for the next three Order meetings."

"You ask too much."

"Oh come on Severus. You can still scowl at him just... just hold your peace, for a bit."

"Agreed."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Three nights later Lupin lay in bed in the sitting room cursing the foolishness of two young people he'd never met. Kelhyne and Trescothick had barely lasted forty-eight hours before being found together at the top of the Astronomy Tower after curfew. Filch had discovered them but, that initial unpleasantness aside, Snape reported somewhat gleefully that he'd never seen the two students look happier. There were rumours they'd be picked as Head Boy and Girl in their final year at school. When Snape broke the news the previous night Lupin had taken it in good grace but now at 3 o'clock in the morning he was beginning to weary of the sitting room. He'd half hoped that Snape might relent and take the shift anyway, or at least keep him company but it seemed the Potions Master planned to take full enjoyment of his win. Twelve hours was a long time to spend in a dowdy sitting room watching someone who contributed nothing to the conversation. Turning over he wished for sleep.

"Remus! _Lupin_! Wake up if you want breakfast." Lupin opened his eyes to see grim dawn light threatening to come through the curtains and a black figure looming over him. His heart pounded and he felt a wrench as he was torn from sleep. He was about to reach for his wand and fight off his attackers when his brain caught up with his instincts. Death Eaters wouldn't offer him breakfast. "Oh, Severus, it's you."

"Who else would it be?"

"I er... you panicked me. What time is it?"

"Not nice to be roused suddenly, is it? Gone seven. I've brought some food from the kitchens. Given the length of your shift I thought coffee and pastries might go down well."

"Oh yes, thank you Severus." Lupin got to his feet and transfigured his bed back into the squat armchair again. Snape was unscrewing a coffee flask and the smell of Jamaican Blue wafted through the air. Lupin salivated, the coffee at headquarters was nothing compared to this. The Hogwarts elves had prepared a hamper with fresh baked croissants, butter and home-made jams, pain au chocolate, Greek yoghurt, honey and summer fruits. After examining the patient for any sign of change Snape drew up another chair and a low table for the breakfast. "Did you get a proper night's sleep?" Lupin yawned.

"I don't tend to need as much sleep as other wizards and witches but, yes, I was asleep by midnight. I may have a tiring day so am grateful you could take my shift last night."

"What's going on?"

"Kelhyne and Trescothick had a shouting match in the Great Hall last night. Filius told me this morning. He seemed quite upset by it, I always thought the head of Ravenclaw would be more skilled at using the head than the heart..."

"Filius has always cared deeply about his students. Minerva said he was distressed to hear about Isolde."

"That as may be, the point is that though my analysis of my students' emotional turmoil was correct Kelhyne and Trescothick did not find true love. Breakfast is some recompense to you and fortification for me against what is certain to be a trying day in the dungeon." Both men ate in silence for a while. Halfway through his second croissant Lupin realised he'd been diverted from his subject. A row between two students would hardly count as a difficult day for Severus. "What else is going on?"

Snape looked up sharply from his coffee and couldn't disguise the apprehension that passed across his face. "There is a meeting of Death Eaters tonight, the Dark Lord will be present. I have to give him my report."

"How will it go over do you think?"

Snape furrowed his brow, "Hard to say. There should be enough gold among the glitter to satisfy him but he has developed a penchant for testing my loyalty." Snape swallowed thickly and looked away, "He likes to make me beg for mercy."

Lupin felt sick. "When it starts, could you not beg sooner, before you are at breaking point?"

The Potions Master shook his head in some irritation, frustrated that he was being given that pitying look again. "Of course not. If the Dark Lord thinks me weak I will be no use to him, another Pettigrew. I must resist for as long as possible. Thanks to the Order I have had plenty of practice." he finished viciously.

"This isn't right, we can't-"

"Grow up Lupin. This is war. I knew what would be asked of me. I do not need your concern, or your pity." Snape stood up gathering his cloak around him. "I may be late this evening." With that he hurried from the room leaving the detritus of breakfast in his wake. Lupin felt a fool. He had managed to convince himself that things were back like they were two years before. But Voldemort was flesh and blood now and Snape was a double agent. The werewolf was suddenly fearful.

At 2 o'clock on the dot Snape entered the sitting room. He looked like a human punchbag, two black eyes, cuts across his face, a skull that had clearly been hit repeatedly against something hard. Blood flew from a nostril and his jaw hung at a funny angle. He staggered into the little room and curled over, retching again and again. He dragged his left leg behind him as though it couldn't take any weight. Lupin had seen Snape hurt before but now he seemed physically diminished, hunched over and shaking from his ordeal. Snape tried to speak but his throat was raw from his screams. Lupin pushed him into the armchair and used his wand to bring the emergency medical kit to him. As Snape slid into unconsciousness the werewolf worked frenetically applying Skele-Gro to the professor's leg and jaw, a relaxant potion, a wound-cleaning potion, a burn-healing paste and a bruise-healing paste in quick succession. During a period of wakefulness when Snape tried to speak Lupin took advantage of the Potions Master's open mouth to pop some fever fudge in. He had by this time turned the armchair into a bed and hastily removed Snape's clothes in order to make sure his wounds were addressed.

Remus was shocked to see a body which looked very much like his own. Lupin's torso and arms were covered in scars, the most obvious of which was the ugly bite mark on his shoulder where he had been attacked as a child. During every transformation until the development of the Wolfsbane he had bitten and scratched himself all night, tearing at his flesh and drawing blood. It was only the self-same affliction that allowed him to heal so rapidly meaning he was ready with the coming of the full moon to do the same damage to himself all over again. One of the side advantages of the Wolfsbane was that he was starting to forget what his own blood smelt like.

Snape was naturally pale, a consequence perhaps of his time underground, but it was hard to see his natural colouring among the florid purples, greens, yellows and blacks of the bruises and blows he had received. Someone had used 'Sectumsempra' against him, there were thin but deep slashes across his chest and arms. Lupin thought that kind of irony would appeal to Lucius Malfoy. Snape was now unconscious again, a lucky thing given his tendency to value his pride over his health. Now that he had managed to staunch the worst of the bleeding and had used the same 'Haemocorpus' spell to replenish Snape's lost reserves of blood Lupin went to work more carefully, checking the professor's anatomy for hidden dislocations and broken bones. Remus had grown skilled at potions and spells to promote healing and growth, after all he had had to when transforming alone. He worked for two hours, summoning a cauldron and ingredients from the kitchen and brewing his own sleeping draught and healing potion. He fetched pillows and a warm blanket from his room and, he thought, surveying his handiwork, had done a pretty good job. Now it was time to see what the new patient thought. Using his wand he incanted "Homenum Revelio" and Snape's eyes snapped awake. "How are you feeling?"

"Death would be welcome."

"Nonsense, you're a survivor. Where can you feel pain?"

"_Everywhere, idiot_. I have been Crucio'd."

"Not just that it seems. The Crucio doesn't leave physical injury."

"The Dark Lord was in good humour. He allowed some of the others to have their fun."

"I have patched you up as best I can. What more can I do for you?"

"Nothing. Th-thank you Remus. I am not sure I would have been able to tend to myself."

"Think nothing of it." Snape was already passing into sleep and Lupin transfigured a chair into a camp bed. But, as he closed his eyes all he could see was Severus' ravaged torso.


	5. Chapter 5

From the smell of the place she had been moved to St Mungo's. This was a risky move for the Order, she must have been badly hurt. Odd, though, that neither Dumbledore nor Severus could heal her. Well, there would be time for questions later. Clearly, she had to move. There was little doubt in her mind that Mungo's would be under Dark wizard control. Stiffly, she sat up in bed and tried to peer through the early morning gloom. The medicinal smell was all the stronger now she was awake and across the room she could see another patient. She couldn't make out anything about him but the stillness implied he was heavily sedated.

Isolde maneuvered herself into a standing position and looked around. Save for the two beds, her own and the stranger's, everything else was murky. She could make out a couple of squat armchairs, and wondered if she'd had visitors. No, probably too dangerous. Her stomach rumbled and she put her hands over it to silence the noise. Gingerly, on two bare feet she began to grope toward a nearby doorframe. She was wearing a very old tee shirt which was large enough to do the job of a nightgown. How was she going to escape? Without a wand, adequate clothing and with a body that still complained with every step, this wasn't going to be easy.

Before she had time to become overwhelmed with desperation the creak of a floorboard outside made her skin prickle. Whoever it was Isolde was certain they meant her harm. Moving next to the closed door she waited for the stranger to enter. As she crouched behind the door she knew she would do anything to get out of St Mungo's, kill even. Without her wand it would be a grisly business but she had the element of surprise and felt certain she could defeat her opponent, even in her weakened state.

The door opened and time seemed to slow as a wiry man slipped into the room. He smelt of healing potions and blood and the scent steeled Isolde's resolve. She barely heard the man's cry as she came at him from behind, closing her hands around his throat. She felt the pulse in his neck as he struggled to twist. Harder and harder she squeezed, increasingly uncertain that he would ever pass out. As the figure thrashed around ever more feebly and sank onto his knees she suddenly saw what she was doing and, with what felt like enormous effort, she pried her fingers from his neck. Scared by what she had been prepared to do her knees gave out from under her and she fell heavily onto her bed. Tears came unbidden and racking sobs filled the small room.

Remus vomited onto the floor. His bruised windpipe made it difficult for him to breathe and now the aftereffects of his attack had him being sick on the carpet. He felt weak and shaky and it took all his strength to stay kneeling on the floor. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and he was dripping with sweat. Stars were in his eyes as he concentrated on breathing in, out, in, out. Slowly, as he became increasingly certain he would survive, and as the blood stopped pounding in his ears, he became aware of another sound. Isolde sat on the bed where she'd had lain for weeks and was sobbing. She had pulled her knees up under her and held them close as she rocked back and forth. For someone who had come so close to killing him she looked like a lost little girl. After swallowing with difficulty Lupin tried to speak. "Isolde? Isolde, it's Lupin. Remus Lupin." The sobbing stopped and silence spread out between them. Lupin got to his feet and accio'd his wand. The small light lit up his face.

"Remus? Oh Remus, I almost killed you."

"Luckily werewolves are hard to kill." Lupin meant this as a joke, though the tone was flat. Isolde had started crying again. "I can't believe I attacked you like that. What's happened to me Remus? I was so scared. I've... I've been scared for such a long time." As she was saying this Lupin got to his feet and approached her. "It was a misunderstanding, that's all. You'd been attacked, you didn't know where you were, you didn't know who I was. I probably would have done the same thing."

"I came so close to killing you. Look at your neck." Lupin didn't want to see the red weals emerging, he could feel them well enough. A change of subject was needed lest Isolde fall back into tears. "Let me examine you." As Lupin had with another member of the Snape family hours earlier he used his wand as a medical aid. Isolde's wounds were mended and though she'd be left with a scar on her midriff where Bellatrix's curse had hit her, she was otherwise well. Lupin ended the examination with her head, checking the cuts were fully healed. Isolde had been silent throughout and Lupin was troubled by the cloudy, faraway look in her eyes. He didn't want her to ruminate on his near miss. "I prescribe a hot shower, clean clothes and good food. There's a shower upstairs. Make use of it. The clothes you travelled in are washed and ready for you. Meanwhile I'll get going on an early breakfast."

"Where am I Remus? I can't remember much."

"12 Grimmauld Place. You made it here as planned but were badly wounded. Three weeks have passed."

"And Severus? How is he?" In the upset and confusion Isolde had forgotten about the other occupant of the room. Trying to push thoughts of Snape's body from his mind Lupin replied lightly "He is his usual misanthropic self. He will be glad to see you. Now, to the shower."

As Lupin heard Isolde climb the stairs he looked at the clock, it was 5.27 am. Snape was still heavily sedated and Lupin looked at him as he lay in stillness. There was little doubt Isolde would be distressed when she saw her uncle. Though Snape's face had adopted its tranquil pose in unconsciousness this only provided the canvas for a kaleidoscope of greens, yellows and purples that coloured his face. His hair was matted with blood from injuries to his scalp and the jaw, though healed, looked puffy and swollen. At least Isolde wouldn't see all that Lupin had. The battered body would remain out of view. It was a testament to Snape's injuries that he had let Lupin heal him. Remus wondered how many times Snape had resembled a punchbag bellow those billowing black robes. In normal life he held himself so upright, never showing a twinge of pain, a flicker of hurt. Snape carried himself like he'd been made to balance books on his head as a child. No-one, save perhaps for Dumbledore, would know what wounds lay beneath. Even as Lupin felt overwhelmed with compassion for a man who would never accept it he also felt a curious pleasure that he had an insight into Snape's jeopardised life. For a reason he could not discern Lupin took Snape's hand in his and squeezed it tight. Snape radiated a surprising heat. Sirius had always claimed that Snape was cold-blooded and reptilian but the Potions Master's hand was hot. Thinking of Sirius made Lupin realise what the scene would look like if Black came into the sitting room and with a chuckle he replaced Snape's hand on the bed and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

The shower had carried away some more of Isolde's tears and, by the time, she was drying herself with a big fluffy towel she was feeling more like her old self. Not knowing where her clothes were kept she wandered into a nearby bedroom and saw a large tartan dressing gown which she put on. Calling her wand to her she was gratified to see it was whole and working properly. Someone must have put it out of harm's way while she convalesced. She was somewhat surprised they'd been able to free it from her grip. One of the last things she remembered was apparating in front of Order headquarters and clutching her wand so tightly she feared it would splinter. She flicked her wand around to dry the rest of her hair and apply salves to her complaining wounds. Barefoot she began to creep downstairs.

The little girl look had not entirely left Isolde but Lupin was gratified to see this was because she was wearing his dressing gown, making her look much younger than her twenty seven years. Her careful tread implied locomotion was making her feel dizzy and she leaned on the kitchen table as she found a seat. "How does scrambled eggs, sausages and beans sound? Molly will want to feed you all over again when she arrives at 8."

"Fabulous. You read my mind."

"Pour yourself some coffee. I've put sugar out. I know you have a sweet tooth."

"Thanks. I can do without now. I've learnt to do without a lot of things I used to think essential. Does Dumbledore know I've woken? I have to give him my report."

"I sent him an owl while you were upstairs. He's replied saying," Lupin stopped scrambling the eggs to pick up a piece of parchment "he sends you heartiest felicitations and he will see you as soon as time allows. Until then you are to remain here and recuperate."

"There's an order I can follow."

"I doubt Molly would let you leave." They ate in companionable silence. It seemed to Isolde that there were so many questions competing for her attention that she barely knew where to begin. She wanted to know how the war progressed, what Voldemort's movements were, what Harry Potter was really like, how Charlie Weasley was. Most of all, most of all she wanted to see Severus. As she finished her second cup of coffee she decided to start with her only living family. "When do I get to see Severus?" Lupin gave her a long look, as though weighing up something. Isolde didn't understand. She knew Lupin and Snape didn't get on; hated each other in fact, but she'd already been told Severus was well. She was a little surprised - and hurt - that he hadn't already shown up.

"Isolde, I wasn't entirely truthful with you earlier. Now, don't worry. Snape is alive and recovering next door. As you know he's been spying on the Death Eaters for us. From time to time Voldemort... well, he tortures him. Don't - don't! - tell Severus I told you. Last night there was a meeting of Death Eaters and Severus returned here in a terrible state. I've patched him up and he's sedated in the same room where you were." As Lupin spoke Isolde felt a cold chill run down her spine. She knew Severus' work for the Order was dangerous but that it included torture? This was new. "I have to see him."

Daylight was carving up the gloomy sitting room and Isolde was astonished she ever confused the place with St Mungo's. The chintzy armchairs, knick knacks and fireplace made it look oddly quaint. Her bed had been transfigured back into a three piece settee. In one corner of the room stood another bed, this one with Snape under the covers. Lupin had taken her next door but upon seeing her perch next to her cousin he withdrew to give them some privacy. Isolde kissed her cousin's forehead. "Severus? Sev, it's me. I'm back from the dead. I can't wait to speak to you again." Some small irrational part of her thought that her presence might lift his sedation, but the potion (one of Remus' concoctions) was sound.

She heard a man thudding down the stairs and, shortly after, a face she recognised only from the international wizarding press bounded into the sitting room. She stood and turned with her back to Severus, almost as if shielding him from the intruder. "You must be Sirius Black."

"My fame precedes me, huh?"

"I know your face."

"Still? But I've been in hiding for months. I thought some of my old handsomeness might have returned."

"Not that I can see. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Sirius leant against the doorframe and grinned wolfishly. "And you behold me as ugly? Thanks a lot! This much rudeness on first acquaintance means you must be a Snape." Isolde offered her hand and Sirius shook it. They were interrupted by Lupin rounding the corner, "Sirius, it's barely 6, what are you doing up?"

"Someone was in the shower. The pipes woke me,"

"That was me," said Isolde.

"In that case you're forgiven." Lupin could scarcely believe the transformed Sirius Black who stood before him. All summer he'd been a brooding bad-tempered presence and now, with an attractive twenty-something woman before him the old charm came to the fore. Sirius moved to the centre of the living room and caught sight of the bed. "Hey, what's happened to Snivellus?" The smile that had been playing around Isolde's lips disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. "My uncle is badly wounded. The Death Eaters."

"Oh." Caught between wanting to criticise Snape and wanting to curry favour with his relation, Sirius could think of little to say. Isolde turned to Lupin, blanking Sirius in the process, "Remus, you said my clothes were washed?"

"Yes, in the chest of drawers upstairs, in Regulus' room." Isolde swept past them both. If she'd had robes they would have billowed after her. Lupin cuffed Sirius on the shoulder, "Nice one mate. You've known her half a minute and you start mocking her family? You need to work on your flirting."

"I wasn't flirting," Black grumbled, "for a start, she's too young for me and, she's a Snape for God's sake. What would James say?"

"Never mind that," laughed Lupin, "what would _he_ say?" pointing to the prone Potions Master.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning passed quickly. Isolde shut herself away in the Black library. She felt in so much turmoil that only retreating into fiction would give her the space to adjust to wakefulness. Most of the Black books were wizarding texts, some old and venerable, many of them Dark Magic, and a few which she noted for future perusal. In her still fragile state however she wanted something more diverting. On a small side table next to a large winged leather armchair stood a neat pile of books denuded of the layer of dust which covered everything else. To her surprise the little pile consisted solely of Shakespeare. It was unusual for a pure-blood family to take an interest in Muggle classics and Isolde opened the slim volume of sonnets to see who it belonged to. On the right hand corner of the title page was written 'S. Snape' in a cribbed neat script. That explained who owned it, but Isolde still didn't understand how it had ended up in Grimmauld Place. Underneath the sonnets lay a copy of Richard II. This too belonged to Severus but dotted throughout the text were annotations in a more fluid, not to say messy, hand. Her cousin hated people writing in books. She well remembered being told off as a third year when he saw her writing in the margins of a History of Magic text. He was only slightly mollified when she told him she was correcting its errors. Whoever had doctored his copy could be sure of punishment. Lost in a reverie Isolde hadn't noticed Lupin till he spoke from the open doorway.

"This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,  
This earth of majesty, this, this, this... what comes next?" he asked entering the room. Isolde furrowed her brow, "This, this - ah! - this seat of Mars!" Lupin smiled as he continued, "This other Eden, demi-paradise,  
This fortress built by Nature for herself  
Against infection and the hand of war. I think of those words you know, as I do the weeding. It's calming somehow, in this continuing nightmare." Both of them looked to the window and the morning light which streamed through. It was already another beautiful day. "I didn't know you liked Shakespeare,"

"Neither did I. Severus lent me some plays and sonnets,"

"Any favourites?"

"I know I don't like Hamlet. Too much dithering. Reminds me of myself! I'm enjoying Richard II. I like all the horticultural metaphors,"

"I didn't know you for a gardener Remus,"

"There have been times when growing my own has kept the wolf from the door, er, so to speak. But here it's not potatoes and courgettes so much as taming the wilderness."

Mrs Weasely's arrival was heralded with a shriek and before Isolde had checked her instinctive reaction to reach for her wand Molly had burst into the library and was holding the young woman close to her chest. "Oh Isolde, I'm so pleased you're back with us, we had no idea how long it would take, you looked deathly white when Sirius found you, I feared for your life I really did, he tells me that you've eaten but that was hours ago, I should make you something now, you just sit here and rest, I'll be back in just a tick." Throughout this babble of talk Mrs Weasely managed to check Isolde's wounds, straighten the young woman's clothes (crumpled by the embrace), check her temperature and steer her back into the leather chair from which she had just risen. Remus tried hard to hide his giggles as he deftly stepped out of the room. Less than five minutes later Mrs Weasely was back with a tray full of food and a huge mug of tea. After the pleasantries were out of the way and Isolde had insisted for the third time that she felt quite well considering she asked after the family. "Everyone is fine dear. Arthur - do you remember Arthur? - is thrilled that you've recovered. We so loved having you to stay that summer. We hoped that you and Charlie might... well, you shall get to see him soon. He's due to pop back for a summer visit and I'm sure he will want to see you." Isolde's heart leapt at the possibility of seeing her best friend. During their final year at Hogwarts Charlie Weasely and Isolde Snape had made quite the glamorous couple, him the captain of the all-conquering Gryffindor quidditch team and her Head Girl. Mrs Weasely wasn't the only one to entertain thoughts of marriage. Though it was getting on for seven years since their break up Charlie remained Isolde's most significant ex, and it was a great joy to her that they had remained steadfast friends.

It was at 10 am and laden with heaviness from her second breakfast that Isolde wandered down to the kitchen. She expected Severus' sedative to wear off soon and wanted to be nearby when he came around. Remus, Sirius and Mrs Weasely were poring over the latest Daily Prophet. "Anything I need to know?" Remus looked up from a Rita Skeeter article. His furrowed brow implied he wasn't far from writing a letter of complaint, "Just the usual rubbish." Sirius yawned and stretched, "You know Voldemort is back from the dead, right?"

"It would be hard not to know, all of Europe is talking about it."

"Then you're up to date." Since Isolde had last seen Sirius he'd got dressed. Flip flops, threadbare jeans and a 'Sex Pistols' tee shirt made him look like an ageing rock star. And not in a good way. Several days' worth of stubble clung to his cheeks and his jet black hair was unkempt and fell about his face. Isolde couldn't decide what to make of Azkaban's ex-inmate. He'd been rude about Sev, looked like he could do with a wash and had a line in sarcasm almost as good as her cousin's. But for all that he had a winning grin and had, so Remus told her, spent his time as her warden talking to her and playing music. Hardly the behaviour of a villain.

The fire in the hearth turned green and out stepped Albus Dumbledore. He greeted the assembled company and in one stride was facing Isolde, clutching her shoulders and looking at her with those searching blue eyes. "My dear Isolde! How happy I am to see you,"

"As I you Professor. I am sorry my report has been delayed," Dumbledore dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand but his eyes continued to cross examine her. There was something in her manner, her formality, that concerned him. The others had stopped reading the paper and were watching them. They sensed too that something was amiss. People usually loved to see Dumbledore, he gladdened their hearts and put them at ease. But Isolde stood stiffly, and though she met Dumbledore's eyes there was an air of defiance in her look that no-one could quite decipher. "Shall we go to the sitting room?"

"Yes, Professor." The old wizard and young witch swept out of the room. "Now what was all that about?" Mrs Weasely asked.

"I can see the resemblance to Snape now," Sirius chipped in, "Christ the way she looked at Dumbledore, it's the way Snape looks at, well, me." Lupin stared at the paper, thinking hard.

In the sitting room Snape slumbered on. Dumbledore took his hand and looked at him sorrowfully. "As you can see I find my cousin in poor shape,"

"I was aware last night's meeting had been particularly trying,"

"Trying? Look at him Professor! Remus was healing him for hours. Severus arrived back here with a broken jaw, a broken leg, a cracked skull, deep gashes all over his chest. And he'd been Crucio'd. Is this what he's been going through while I've been gone?" Dumbledore looked very weary, "It is necessary, Isolde. Severus needs to gain Voldemort's trust. He would tell you the same thing."

"Oh, I know he would. He's loyal enough, and cares little enough for his own life to attempt any task you set him. But I love him. He's my only living family. And he's being tortured. You have to see the, the _horror_ of this!" Isolde was furious with herself for the crack in her voice and the way it's pitch had got higher and higher. Dumbledore turned to Isolde and now there was steeliness hadn't heard before, "Severus volunteered for this Isolde. He knew what he was getting into. I am no keener to see him hurt than you. We must do all we can to protect him _without_ compromising his unique position," Isolde tried to protest but Dumbledore carried on, more softly, "and I believe you and I care about him most in the world. We have to work together." Mutely, and blinking back tears, Isolde nodded. She knew she would soon have an identical argument with the object of her concern.

Isolde and Dumbledore returned to the kitchen in silence. The others could see her red-rimmed eyes. "Thrilled as I am to have Isolde with us again I am here to speak to Remus. I have called a meeting of the Order for tomorrow, at 6. I shall see all of you then when Severus," Dumbledore looked at Isolde who turned her eyes away, "will be well enough to join us. Remus, a moment..?" Lupin followed the headmaster into the garden as Isolde headed to her cousin's side. Sirius and Molly shared a long look.

Twenty minutes later Dumbledore had departed and Remus Lupin had a new sense of purpose to match the queasiness in his stomach. The full moon was fast approaching and Dumbledore had asked him to spend another change in the company of his fellow creatures. His unique position in the Order made Lupin feel both vital and ill used. Every time he changed in the open there was a risk he would kill or infect Muggles, a possibility worse than death. Still, it was felt necessary to take the temperature of the werewolves, and counter what offers Voldemort may have made them. A fool's errand, in Lupin's opinion, and he was the fool.


	7. Chapter 7

If waking naturally is like being a cork on an incoming tide, bobbing your way to shore, waking from a sedative potion is like falling out of an aeroplane, you are in one state, and then instantaneously another. Snape felt a throb in his head, an ache in his bones, and the tingling of his nerves. He also felt a hand holding his. For a moment Severus indulged the idea that Remus had been watching over him. The thought gave him a sweet pleasure he did not wish to ruminate on. But the hand was too small to belong to the werewolf. "Sev?" an achingly familiar voice asked. Better than Lupin, it was Isolde. "So you finally decided to wake up?" he said in a throatier version of his normal baritone. "Another Snape needed the bed," Severus beamed at the woman he regarded as close to a daughter. "You know, I can see why you don't smile at work. You lose all authority,"

"As if I ever had any with you," Isolde's heart was full of joy as she kissed Severus' hand. "Now let me examine you," Severus was already demurring, "or I'll shout in excitement and Molly can act the mediwizard,"

"Anything but that,"

"That's what I thought. Can you sit?" With the sense that his body was structurally unsound Snape managed to sit up as Isolde transfigured the bed back into an armchair. Snape was unsurprised to see that he was wearing the same old Joy Division tee shirt Remus had lent him three weeks earlier. Some pajamas that didn't fit him saved him from embarrassment. While Isolde conducted her checks the sitting room door opened and Sirius walked in. Severus grimaced. "What's wrong?" asked Isolde, running her wand over his torso. "He's remembered whose house he's in," Black quipped. "I've remembered what you contribute - _nothing_," Severus snarled. Sirius was ready to respond but Isolde cut in, "Can you fetch something for him to eat?" Sirius balked at being asked to play manservant to Snivellus but the look Isolde shot him brooked no argument and he grumpily headed back to the kitchen.

"The great spy is awake and demanding sustenance," Sirius complained. Mrs Weasely emerged from the pantry and began assembling a food tray while Sirius' bad temper roused Lupin from his thoughts. "You know, when she was asleep I thought Isolde might actually be okay but she's just like him, issuing orders... Damned if I'm going to take him his food,"

"You don't know what he goes through," Remus said mildly, thinking of Snape's wounds. Sirius looked mutinous, "If he's such a bloody martyr you can minister to him, I'm off." He leapt to his feet and tore up the stairs with Molly's instruction to "see to the Grindylows" following behind.

Half an hour later Snape had eaten, changed into his own clothes and was ready to depart for Hogwarts. Against Isolde's entreaties to stay a little longer, he was determined to resume his punishing schedule. "I shall see you tomorrow at the meeting," he insisted.

"I just don't think you look well enough to be back at the school,"

"To my considerable surprise, Re-_Lupin_ did an excellent job fixing my injuries," Remus doffed an invisible cap in mock appreciation, "I need to heal a little, that is all, and I may as well heal while marking essays. Besides, it is important no-one suspects I did anything other than return to the castle. The longer I stay the bigger cover story I need." Isolde embraced him, "Very well, though I am not happy,"

"I am not unaccustomed to sulking," Severus said with a smirk. Isolde released him and, granting a swift nod to Lupin, Severus Snape left 12 Grimmauld Place.


	8. Chapter 8

As the day wore on Molly arrived and departed to a timetable none of the others understood. Remus made good progress with his gardening, Isolde read and napped in the library and the sound of punk emanated from Sirius' bedroom. Dinner that evening was for three. Mrs Weasely was celebrating Arthur's birthday and had left a magnificent chicken and mushroom pie for the three residents. Sirius sat down with a huff, and looked ready to continue his grievance. Swallowing nervously Remus said, "I've got a pretty good bottle of wine that I thought we might get into. A celebration, of Isolde's return. After all, it's not every day we get good news..."

"That's lovely Remus. Sirius, will you have a glass?" He nodded in silence and Remus hastily filled their glasses while Isolde served the pie, potatoes and vegetables. For many minutes they ate in silence. With a sigh Isolde said, "I can't believe I'd forgotten how well Molly cooks,"

"We've been very lucky. It'd be pureed soup if left to my own devices," Remus joked. "I used to dream about the Hogwarts kitchens after I broke out," Sirius contributed, with a faraway look in his eye. "What in particular?" Isolde asked, dishing out seconds of pie. "Anything would have done, but I kept returning to the beef wellington they used to do..."

"Still do, at least, did when I taught there,"

"I remember that," Isolde smiled, "with creamy mashed potato and pints of gravy,"

"That's it! That's exactly it. I don't think I was much bothered by it while I was there, but boy does it live on," Sirius chuckled. Remus was pleased to see that the good food and decent wine had made the three of them mellow. "I don't know if being a werewolf has affected my taste-"

"Into your rare steaks are you?"

"-well maybe Padders, maybe, but when I was skint, which is now I come to think of it, most of the past twenty years, I used to think about that Hogwarts ham they have. Salty and succulent. I tried to imagine it while I ate my soups."

"Have you ever been really hungry Isolde?" All of Isolde's carers had commented on how thin she was and Lupin realised that it was this observation that lay behind Sirius' question. "I hadn't, not till recently. I, uh, I can't really go into it," Sirius and Remus had stopped eating and their eyes were on Isolde's face, "but there was a time when I couldn't use magic, radio silence, and I was out of money, and had to travel a great distance so I was, uh, just walking by night and sleeping in the day. Trying to lie low, avoid towns and villages and so, as you can imagine, I didn't have a good way of feeding myself," Sirius caught his old friend's eye. Whatever Isolde had been doing for the Order in Europe, she must have been in grave danger. Perhaps this explained her frame, her wariness, and her attack on Lupin early that morning. Isolde had tailed off, suddenly uncertain if they were interested. "What did you do?" they asked in unison. "Oh well, here's where having Sev for an uncle was really handy. I had a bit of a talent for Potions anyway, and he was teaching by the time I showed up at Hogwarts, so he nurtured that interest, gave me stuff to read and it just got in my head, you know what you can eat and what will make you sick, or kill you. All while I was walking I had stuff to eat but, frankly, nettle anything is awful..." Isolde looked up and was worried to see the grave expression on her companions' faces, "so I fantasised about cheese. Just every type of cheese. Stilton and brie and feta and manchego and good old cheddar. Thought it would drive me crazy. And here I am, awake and back and I've not had cheese all day!" Her attempt at levity produced a disproportionate response, Remus leaping to his feet to search the pantry and Sirius exclaiming, "This must be fixed!" Their reactions were so comic that Isolde started laughing while begging them to desist, protesting that she was far too full to eat even another bite. Eventually they all calmed down and Remus returned from the pantry with a bottle of brandy.

After the brandy had been poured Sirius asked, "So how do you two know each other?" Isolde and Remus looked at each other, both momentarily perplexed. "Oh, like that is it?" Sirius sniggered. "Like what? Oh, no, _nothing_ like that. I'm just racking my brain..."

"I suppose all your conquests become a bit of a blur after a while Moony," Lupin could feel himself turning red, and Isolde's giggles weren't helping. Going on the offensive he said, "Yes you're right Padders. After you were hauled off to Azkaban I thought, 'Someone's got to be the group lothario and it damn well isn't Pettigrew. I'd better put it about a bit, starting with Snape's young, intelligent and beautiful relation.' You've read my mind," Sirius was hooting with laughter. "We must have met through Tonks, what do you reckon? An Auror thing?" Isolde hazarded. Nodding, "Down the Leaky Cauldron I'm sure. Occasionally I'd bump into Tonks or Kingsley or Mad-Eye even and they'd force butterbeers on me. Well, it'd be rude to say no."

"That it would," agreed Sirius. "After that we always seemed to be in the same corner of Flourish & Blotts, the Muggle Culture bit. I'd harangue Remus about what telly he was missing-"

"unfair really seeing as I didn't have a TV at the time,"

"-and we'd grab a coffee and talk about this thing which no other wizards or witches were interested in." They paused for breath and Sirius took a moment to enjoy the sight of Remus temporarily free from care. The colour had returned to Isolde's cheeks and Sirius was secretly relieved there was no romantic history between the two of them. Remus brought him back to the present, "Then this one," he points at Isolde, "quits as an Auror and announces that she's off to Europe and might not be back for a year-"

"which ends up being four years, though admittedly that wasn't of my choosing."

The conversation ebbed and flowed for a while more and all three of them felt the frustrations and worries of recent times lift off them in good company and good cheer. A yawn from Isolde signalled they were all ready for sleep. Realising that there wasn't a room ready for their new guest Sirius promised to rid the upper floor of Grindylows for the following night as Remus turned one of the overstuffed armchairs back into a bed for what he hoped was the last time. Sirius bellowed good night to them and went two-at-a-time up the stairs. As his bedroom door slammed shut Isolde helped Remus make the sitting room bed. "I know what you're thinking," Remus said wearily. When he got no response he pressed on, "you're wondering how on earth my oldest friend can't know I'm... can't know I'm hardly a ladies man,"

"In fact, one might say you're a man's man," Isolde said gently,

"Yes, you could say that."

"Why didn't you tell him?"

"Because it was the first war! James knew, and Sirius was an idiot back then. I wasn't sure how he'd react, and who knew if we'd survive and I just, I just thought I'd wait till it all calmed down."

"I'm not judging you Remus, really I'm not. But why can't he know now?"

"What's the point?" Remus said with more bitterness than he'd intended, "I'm single, and that's not likely to change. He knows my biggest secret. Being gay is just an afterthought. Would you like an extra blanket?"

"I'll be fine. Come here." Isolde and Remus embraced. "Thank you for looking after me, and Severus."

"It's good having you in my life again." As Remus headed upstairs to Regulus' room he thought about how true that was, how much richer his life had become since Isolde, and especially her difficult uncle, were back in his thoughts.


End file.
